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S I A T I 



E II T 



VOLUME 9 

N UMB E R 3 

AUGUST 

2001 




The Spooky Scrapbook 

Kees Moerbeek 
The Netherlands 

An adaptation of a slide presentation given at The 
Movable Society Conference, September, 2000. 

The preparation for The 
Spooky Scrapbook started, as 
always, with a vague idea. 
This time I wanted to make a 
book based on two concepts: 
1) organized chaos, and, 2) 
real dimensional paper 
sculptures. To the reader the 
contents have to look like 
completely unstructured chaos 
but to me (as the designer) it 
had to be completely 
organized. Real dimensional 
paper sculptures are a challenge and I wanted to use these 
non-foldable elements in this book. Every pop-up book is 
predictable in a way. No matter how spectacular the 
mechanics are, we all know the next page of a pop-up 
book is another pop-up. In this book I wanted to be 
unpredictable and use unfoldable elements to increase the 
surprise effect. This meant that the exterior of the book 
had to be a sturdy box in order to protect the dimensional 
sculptures. So, I had two elements to begin with: a sturdy 
box and a disorganized interior. 

The next step 

What kind of box is it? What's in the box? What do 
people keep in little boxes? I started with the idea of a 
treasure box containing maps, handwritten notes, 
drawings, and photos. Maybe it was the inheritance of a 
famous explorer or a pirate. But I couldn't find a 
satisfying story. I needed something more universal, 
something everybody would recognize. I also wanted to 
limit myself to a six spreads like a regular pop-up book. I 
needed a simple story that could be told in six scenes and 
that would make sense to keep in a box. But I had no idea 
what that might be. And always when I am stuck, I start 
digging in my own childhood. What did I like the most 
when I was a kid? It didn't take much thinking. The most 
important events in my childhood were my birthdays. So 
it had to be a birthday scrapbook. Continued on page 6 



A Conversation with Rives 

Marci Blatt 
Indio, California 

Rives (he prefers to use simply his last name) is a 
young, very talented paper engineer, living in the Los 
Angeles area. A multi-faceted individual, he lists animals 
among his myriad interests, and I noted that when I 
invited him to visit The Living Desert, a nature park in 
the southern California desert at which I serve as a 
docent/tour guide. Late in May this year Rives visited 
the facility. At that point, I took advamage of his 
presence in the area, inviting him to my home to chat 
about pop-ups. As we sat talking in my workroom, his 
nimble fingers were hard at work, cutting, scoring and 
gluing. By the end of our interview, I was presented with 
an original pop-up card of my very own - a rocket ship 
blasting off from the moon! 




Rives 

M: I met you several years ago when I went through 
Intervisual Books on one of your tours, so you can 
imagine my delight when your name popped out at me 
from the front page of Movable Stationery (February, 
2001) in a report by Theo Gielen on the 2000 Frankfurt 
Book Fair. Not only did Theo, at the beginning of his 
article, give high praise to a book you have coming out 
this fall, but he repeated his accolades at the close of his 
report, saying your book "proved to be one of the top 
five or six of this year's fair." 

Continued on page 2 



The Movable Book Society 

ISSN: 1097-1270 
Movable Stationery is the quarterly publication of The 
Movable Book Society. Letters and articles from members 
on relevant subjects are welcome. The annual membership 
fee for the society is $20.00. For more information contact 
Ann Montanaro, The Movable Book Society, P.O. Box 
1 1654, New Brunswick, New Jersey 08906. 

Daytime telephone: 732-445-5896 

Evening telephone: 732-247-6071 

e-mail: montanar@rci.rutgers.edu 

Fax: 732-445-5888 

The deadline for the next issue is November 15. 



Rives, continued from page 1 

R: Very flattering. However, Waldo Hunt has told me 
that he paid off Theo Gielen for that front-page coverage, 
that it doesn't come cheap, and that he's going to take it 
out of my royalties. 

M: Methinks you jest. Seriously, I know you've been 
working with pop-ups for several years now, and I'm very 
curious to know what might have started you on the pop- 
up path. In other words, when did you become intrigued 
with this art form? 

R: That's a good question to ask a paper engineer. I have 
a feeling that, like a lot of paper engineers, I have been 
one since childhood. I just didn't know it. If you looked at 
the guillotines I made from milk cartons as a child, in the 
third grade, if you looked at some of the Christmas 
ornaments I made, they were always out of paper. I was 
the kind of kid who would take a butter knife and open a 
cereal box along its seams, just to see what it looked like 
in two dimensions. So, looking back at my early stuff, my 
medium of choice was almost always paper. 

M: Did you carry this interest into any art classes in 
school? 



R: I remember we were speaking about it. I do compare the 
two a lot because I am a linguist by training, and I found 
that learning a craft was much like learning a language. You 
develop a vocabulary; if you develop a very basic vocabulary 
you can carry on a basic conversation - that would be a very 
simple book. If you achieve a complicated vocabulary, you 
can have a complicated conversation - that would be a 
complicated book. And, if you get really good and you start 
making up your own vocabulary, then that's a kind of 
poetry, and the way that is translated into a book is 
something original, distinct, and yours. 

M: I like that. I also seem to recall that we talked about the 
universal language of pop-up: it delivers a message so well 
that text is not always necessary. 

R: I'm particularly intrigued by this connection between the 
text and the pop-up. For so long in pop-up's modern history 
you had an approach that "the medium is the message." Pop- 
ups were about the pops, so the stories were often as simple 
as: "What's in the jungle? A tiger!" Not really compelling 
stuff. On the one hand, I think that's fantastic because you 
can share such books cross-culturally or cross-linguistically 
and everybody gets the same charge out of them. On the 
other hand, I know there's a place for text-and-pop-up- 
integrated pop-up books. Books where story matters just as 
much as the mechanics. It's been done very nicely with non- 
fiction, so where are the original pop-up storybooks? I'm 
bored with what I call "the umpteenth fairytale adaptation." 

M: Let's talk a bit about the book you have coming out this 
fall. Its text is somewhat sparse, right? 

R: It does have text, a quatrain per spread, four lines of 
rhyming poetry. But, regardless of how I just sounded off 
about having a text-and-pop-up-integrated book, the new 
book is probably first and foremost a paper engineer's 
creation. As a writer, I make a really good paper engineer; 
as an artist, I make a really good paper engineer. As a paper 
engineer, I came up with all the spreads in that book before 
I touched pencil to paper. 

M: Then, this book is a realization of your experience, thus 
far, in the field? 



R: Not at all. I did not have an art class in high school or 
in college. I hope that is encouraging to others - maybe to 
my students. I studied linguistics. That was my interest, 
my passion. 

M: Fascinating. At one point in the past when you and I 
were talking, you made an interesting comparison between 
languages and pop-ups that fascinated me. 



R: The prototype of this book was one I developed even 
before I started working at Intervisual. I submitted a 
prototype of the book as part of my portfolio in order to get 
a job with the company, so you're talking about an idea I've 
had for at least six years. I just didn't know how to do what 
I wanted to do. It was at Intervisual that I literally learned 
the trade. 

Continued on page 9 



The Baron of Santa Fe 

Adie C. Pena 

Makati City, the Philippines 

Prologue 

The scenic 57.7 mile drive from Albuquerque to Santa 
Fe took less than an hour but I'm running a bit late. I 
know I won't make my 2:00 p.m. appointment with 
Andrew Baron at his house located nine blocks from the 
famous Santa Fe Plaza. After checking in at the Santa Fe 
Plaza Travelodge, I immediately leaf through the local 
phonebook, find Andy's number and give him a call. I 
offer my apologies and relay to him that I'd need an hour 
or so to grab a quick lunch with my family. "No problem," 
he replies at the other end of the line, "just ring the 
doorbell and my two dogs will let me know when you're 
here." 




Andy Baron 

My family chooses a chichi Italian restaurant near the 
old Santa Fe depot, a short walk from the Travelodge. Not 
a bad idea really (after eating Mexican food for a week!) 
until a clumsy busboy accidentally spills tomato sauce all 
over my white pants. Since it's too late to walk back to the 
motel for a change of clothing, good old soda water will 
do the trick for the meanwhile. 

While the grown-up members of my family head for 
the touristy part of town, my mechanically-inclined 
15-year-old nephew, Raymond, decides to join me on this 
"paper engineering" adventure. With a MapQwest 
printout in hand and a right leg dripping wet, we make 
our way to Don Gaspar Avenue. (Thankfully the mid- July 
New Mexico weather will air-dry my pants during the 
15-minute walk to Andrew Baron's house.) 

As we take a short cut through a quiet residential area, 
I can't help but think that nine months earlier I was in a 
crowded New York subway car chugging towards Robert 



Sabuda and Matthew Reinhart's studio on 72nd. I can still 
remember Robert handing me a mock-up for a forthcoming 
pop-up book and excitedly instructing me to pull a tab 
causing the wings of a butterfly to magically flutter. (E>uring 
a recent phone conversation, Matthew confirmed that the 
butterfly and beetle mock-ups I saw in their studio were for 
the 2-volume "Young Naturalist Pop-Up Handbook" set to 
be released this fall.) 

Now here I am, miles (and months) away from Robert 
Sabuda, the King of New York. I wonder what surprises the 
Baron of Santa Fe has in store for me. 

Lucy, Truman and Edison 

We arrive at Andy's doorstep at about 3:30 for what is 
only to be a 4-hour visit. I ring the doorbell and, as if on cue, 
I hear dogs barking. (I would later learn their names: Lucy 
and Truman. Lucy will be fond of me in the next few hours. 
Maybe she likes my tomato-scented pants.) Andy warmly 
ushers us into his 1920s home located in a historical part of 
town. I can't help but notice a "brand new" ("new-old-stock" 
or "NOS," as those who collect this stuff would put it) 1959 
Admiral color television set, with a modern day VCR atop, 
in the living room. (Ellen Rubin tells me that Andy taped his 
copy of the Martha Stewart pop-up segment, featuring 
Robert and Ellen, from this same set whilst holding up a pair 
of rabbit ears!) 

Andy offers us a much-needed glass of cold water in the 
kitchen. I spot an old GE electric fan on the counter but the 
refrigerator is, uh, too contemporary looking. Andy says he 
damaged the old one while defrosting it and had to replace 
it with a present day model. Yes, as a small boy, Andy 
disassembled his toys (and his parents' small appliances) 
then correctly put them together again. Refrigerators 
apparently aren't his forte. 

The next stop is the driveway and Andy proudly shows us 
the two cars he is lovingly restoring: a 1 939 black Buick and 
a 1950 red Pontiac convertible. ("Julian Wehr could have 
ridden in one of these things," I quietly remark.) We proceed 
to his repair shop located at the back of his lot. Aside from 
floor-to-ceiling shelves neatly stacked with unused vacuum 
tubes, inside are antique clocks and radios, Edison 
phonographs and gramophones. Andy cranks one up and we 
listen to some old time music. 

From the time I rang the doorbell, it will take almost two 
hours ~ certainly not for naught — before we work our way 
back to his house and finally enter his crowded but 
organized home studio. Andrew Baron, being the 
detail-oriented person that he is, probably planned the long 
and slow "overture," or, perhaps more appropriately, the 
guided tour through the "Museum ofhis Mechanical Mind." 

Continued on page 14 



Tunnel Book: A Theatrical Structure 

Rand Huebsch 
New York City, NY 

In 1990 I attended the Morgan Library's exhibit 
entitled "300 Years of British Children's Books." Among 
the objects were two 19th-century tunnel books; those 
portable tableaux fascinated me. A printmaker, I had 
always been interested in visual narratives, and the tunnel 
format seemed ideal for presenting images from my 
personal mythology. The following thoughts arose from 
my years of happily exploring the format, both as artist 
and as teacher. 

Constructing the Book 

Originated in the Italian Renaissance for studying 
perspective, the tunnel book is a fairly simple structure. It 
consists of a series of parallel image- bearing panels; 
except for the solid back panel, they all have cut-out areas. 
The panels are attached on two sides to accordion-folded 
strips. When those strips are extended, the book can stand 
upright to present a unified scene. ("Peepshow," an early 
term, attests to the book's theatrical nature.) To construct 
the book, only a few materials are needed: a pencil, a 
ruler, glue, bone folder, scissors or X-acto knife, a 
protective cutting board, such as a plexiglas sheet, and 
images on paper. Those can include: prints, drawings, 
watercolors, rubberstamps, xeroxes, collages, photos, text, 
or mixed media. Most of my limited-edition books are 
comprised of hand-colored etchings, and it is as a 
draftsman that I usually approach image-making. 

The tunnel book process is very intuitive. 

In designing Night Desert, I made a construction paper 
prototype in the following way. After cutting four 5" x 8" 
panels, I sketched images on the perimeter of the first 
panel, then used an X-acto knife to remove the unwanted 
interior areas. (The knives are very sharp and should be 
used carefully.) I placed the first, front panel over the 
second panel and traced the interior contour onto it, to 
serve as a rough guide for the second sketch, and so forth. 
I used the four completed panels as templates for 
transferring the design to a copper plate, which was then 
etched. 

When designing a book, it is important periodically to 
set the panels in an upright position, one in front of the 
other. This helps the artist to visualize their interaction. 
For example, you may see that the visual balance needs 
adjusting and can then cut away or add elements. For 
many years I made do with ink bottles or paper cups as 
props. Now, for that purpose, I make wire easels, which 
are much steadier supports and make it easy to experiment 
with the spacing between panels. (When deciding on that 
spacing, sit fairly close and at eye level to the panels. That 



will let you know if they form a united vista or if, instead, 
there are visual "leaks" between panels.) I based the easel 
design on that of the ones used for displaying small photos. 
Sixteen- or twenty-gauge wire is a good thickness: it can 
easily be bent, but is strong enough to support paper. 

There are other ways of developing imagery. For Fable 
1, 1 played with copies of four etchings that I had done as 
unrelated images and experimented both with their sequence 
and with variations on the cut-out areas. (If using original 
drawings or photos, you may want to make xeroxes of them 
for planning the prototype.) You can also start from a single 
two- dimensional image: allocate some of its elements to the 
front panel, some to the second, etc. It will soon become 
evident, however, that the extra dimension makes additional 
demands. Recently I adapted a Renaissance painting of a 
deep-space interior, in which curtains framed the scene. The 
question arose: in a three-dimensional version of that scene, 
what is behind the curtains? (Part of my answer was to use 
the same curtain imagery on both the first and second panels 
of the book.) 




The number of panels for a book is often determined by 
the degree of complexity in each, as well as the amount of 
overlap. The British books that first inspired me had at least 
ten panels, each one fairly simple. That same number is 
contained in Edward Gorey's The Tunnel Calamity, which 
has a peephole on the front cover. I usually put a lot of 
information into each page, with considerable overlapping, 
so that four panels are sufficient for the book. Sometimes I 
make several options and, using the wire easels, see how 
each one relates to the other panels in the series. 
The completed panels are connected by hinges to 
accordion-folded strips. Heavy paper should not be used, as 
it will not score well. The strips tend to contract slightly 
once the book has been placed upright. Therefore, If you 
want a 2" space between each panel, measure a 2/4" section 
on the strip. To support properly the panels, the strips must 
be of sufficient width. For example, on a book that is 6" 
high, use a 2" width strip and position it at the midpoint of 
the panel. Bone folders are excellent for scoring the strips 
and the hinges that will attach them to the panels. I also use 
the connecting strips as surfaces for images that "comment" 
on the panels. 



To avoid overlapping, the hinges should be no wider 
than the accordion strip. Assemble the book in the 
following way. Measure and mark on the backs of the 
panels for positioning of hinges. These marks will serve as 
guides when you assemble, so that all the strips will be 
aligned correctly with the panels. Glue hinges to the backs 
of all of the interior panels. Hinges are not needed for the 
book's front and back panels: the accordion strips are 
attached directly to their backs. When you glue the hinges, 
make sure that their fold is aligned with the outer edge of 
the panel. Then start gluing the strips. The strips will 
attach to the other side of the hinges on all the interior 
panels. Remember that the fold of each accordion 
segment between panels feces inward. For all gluing, use 
a bone folder for pressing the elements together. Place a 
piece of tracing paper between the folder and the 
elements, so that any excess glue will be picked up. 

As sculptural pieces, tunnel books require a degree of 
engineering. For example, a small book does not need as 
sturdy a paper to be stable as does a larger book. To 
strengthen the structure, the paper or board for the front 
and back panels should be heavier than that of the interior 
panels. As a rule, use card stock for inner panels and 
two-ply museum board for covers. Also remember that the 
book may be viewed when it is collapsed. If you don't 
want the side strips to be visible then, the panels must be 
at least as wide, at the hinge point, as half the length of 
the strip segment between two panels. In designing my 
books, I have not been concerned about that issue. 

Esthetics of the book 

The tunnel book has a built-in paradox: it's a three- 
dimensional structure comprised of two-dimensional 
elements. That dichotomy gives the format a special visual 
logic that allows for stylization. Perspective can be 
manipulated and "forced," in the manner of a museum 
diorama. In As You Like It, the front panel depicts only 
the upper body of a Shakespeare character. He looks 
directly at the viewer, and his arms form a framework that 
encloses the succeeding panels, which show smaller, 
full-length figures from the play. "The Burglars of 
Bremen," based on a Grimm's tale, depicts 
interior/exterior space. On the right side of each panel, a 
braying farm animal stands outside a cottage; on the left 
side, within that cottage, is a frightened human figure. 

With its linked parallel planes, the tunnel book can 
imply the passage of time or a series of events. In As You 
Like It, each panel depicts a separate scene. Unified, they 
comment on each other, so that the book recalls those 
early Renaissance paintings that simultaneously displayed 
several episodes of a saint's life. "Circe" presents a 
chapter from The Odyssey in which a sorceress transforms 
sailors into swine. In the farthest and "earliest" panel, she 



offers a bowl of potion to an unsuspecting man. In the next 
one, a pig-headed human figure appears, and so forth, until 
the frontmost panel, where a swine leaps. As each page has 
a framework of stylized brambles, the book is ambiguous: it 
may be showing different beings at a single moment, or one 
being in various stages of a metamorphosis. 

One can exploit the architectural aspect of the tunnel 
format. In The Wunderkammer of Rudolph II, I show a 
1 7th-century cabinet of curiosities. One of my students made 
elaborate, calligraphic cut-outs within the panels of her 
mosque-like book. Another student made a visual journal in 
which she adhered elements from travel photos to panels 
that were frame-like in shape. Onto those panels, and also 
onto the connecting accordion strips, she had rubber- 
stamped Japanese ideograms. For image ideas one can look 
at: interior scenes by the Dutch painter Pieter de Hooch; 
Persian or Indian miniatures, for their non-Western 
perspective; and German Expressionist films, such as "The 
Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," with their stylized lighting and 
distorted sets. 

Currently I am exploring several elaborations on the 
format. The Canterbury Tales is an accordion- tunnel book, 
similar to the carousel format, but not identical. In its 
accordion form, the book presents the figures in procession, 
while each tunnel segment shows the history of a specific 
pilgrim. Demon Box is a collapsible toy theater; to each 
panel a rod affixes a shadow-puppet marionette, so that the 
viewer can manipulate the stationary figure. The back panel 
is adhered to the interior of a shallow covered box; the cover 
is hinged such that it serves, when the box is opened, as a 
floor for the extended theater. In the works, for a group 
printmaking show, is a collaborative tunnel book, with each 
panel by a different artist. Within the basic framework of the 
tunnel format, the possibilities are endless. 

Rand Huebsch is a printmaker, teacher and curator. His 
artist books are in the collections of the New York and 
Newark Public Libraries. He is a presenter at the New 
Jersey Book Artists Conference, November 2001. 




Prints by Rand Huebsch from a rubber stamp carved 
with a linoleum cutter from Staedtler Mars eraser. 



Spooky Scrapbook, continued from page 1 



The Birthday Book 

A birthday scrapbook could contain photos, 
handwritten notes, small presents, and birthday cards. The 
box could be a "hollow book" to give the whole concept 
something mysterious. When we analyze the birthday, we 
see that it can be divided into six elements: 

The invitations 

The arrival of the guests 

The offering of the presents 

The meal 

The entertainment 

The goodbye 

So, I had my six spreads! 

Kelly's Keepsakes 

I wanted to show the birthday collection of a little boy 
named Kelly. It had to be an antique book containing a 
collection of photos, presents, and all kinds of creepy 
insects and worms. I immediately thought of a little 
Dracula boy. The dummy was called "Kelly's Keepsakes." 
But, at second thought, the little boy didn't make sense to 
me. I thought it illogical that a boy would collect photos 
and would write little notes, as a kind of diary. That's 
something for girls, I thought, and that's why 1 changed 
the boy into a girl. 

Annabel's Secret Scrapbook 

1 decided to change 
the title to "Annabel's 
Secret Scrapbook." 
Annabel means 
"Anna, the beautiful." 
(Our youngest 
daughter is named 
Anna and she, of 
course, is . . . but I'm 
the dad.). Using a girl 
gave me the 
opportun ity to 
introduce all kinds of 

super-sweet elements like the little flower cards on which 

we can read the innocent texts. 

The making of Annabel's Secret Scrapbook 

On the first spread we see Annabel, first as the old- 
fashioned, innocent schoolgirl and, when we pull the tab, 
as the mischievous Dracula daughter she really is. I've 
added the text "Me. Hundred thirteen years after I died for 
the second time" to make you think for awhile. It's rather 
complex to understand when reading it for the first time. 
She's probably thirteen years old. Continued on page 12 




Meggendorfer 
Will Love 



Milwaukee 




Louring the mid- 1 800s immigrants, mostly Germans, 
flocked to Milwaukee, bringing with them their skills, arts and 
cuisines. By the last half of the 1 9th century. English was 
almost never heard in some neighborhoods. Public schools 
7calously enforced their requirement that German be taught 
from kindergarten on. In the late 1 870s Milwaukee had six 
daily newspapers published in German. 

In the fall of 2002, movable book enthusiasts from all over 
the world will flock to Milwaukee to attend the 4th Movable 
Book Society Conference. Some adventurous members can 
surely pop up in one of the city's old German cafes and beer 
gardens, where zither music is played and sauerbraten is served, 
to celebrate Meggendorfer over mugs of the local brew. 

Make your plans now for three days of movable feasts, 
friends and fun. No need to bring your German dictionaries. All 
sessions will be conducted in English. 



MW 

THE 4TH MOVABLE BOOK 
SOCIETY CONFERENCE 

SEPTEMBER 19 - 21. 2002 
MILWAUKEE, WISCONSIN 



Spiralbet 

Amy Lapidow 
Somerville, Massachusetts 




Peepshows 

"PEEP SHOW! Panoramas of the Past" 

The DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum. Henry and 
Francis streets, Williamsburg, Virginia. 

This exhibit features 18 th and early 19 th century prints 
that were used with special viewing devices to amuse and 
instruct the viewers. The vue d'optiques and perspective 
prints depict landscapes and views of foreign places and 
events. Also included are panoramas and peep shows made 
up of series of prints that created three-dimensional views. 
Through May 27, 2002 



I made Spiralbet in 1998 for a traveling Guild of 
Bookworkers show, called Abecedarium. This exhibit is 
available on line at http://palimpsest.stanford.edu/ 
byorg/gbw/gallery/abecedarium/ contents.htm. Spiralbet 
is a tunnel book made with Rives BFK paper. The colors 
were airbrushed by Nancy Aimes. Each page was hand 
cut. There is only one copy and it is my father's collection. 

I graduated in 1995 from the bookbinding program at 
the North Bennet Street School, in Boston, Massachusetts. 
I continue to teach two workshops there: Introduction to 
Cloth Case Bookbinding, and Protective Enclosures for 
Books. I have a studio with three other graduates of the 
program. We are known as "The Three Ring Binders." I 
mostly make blank journals, photo albums, custom-made 
boxes, and other custom work. Others in the group 
specialize in boxes and book repair. We have also done 
some short run work. The most recent was reviewed in Art 
On Paper April 2001 p. 78. It was a photo album for Alex 
Web called Dislocations. 

I have always had an interest in movable books, but 
this interest has turned far more serious since I took a two- 
day workshop in pop-up structures. Thus far Spiralbet is 
my first serious venture into movable book production. 



Book Artist Awarded Fellowship 

Movable Book Society member Carol Barton has been 
awarded the Sacatar Foundation Fellowship for the fall of 
200 1 . She will be artist- in-residence at the Sacatar Center 
in Bahia, Brazil from November 13 through December 23, 
where she will be finishing her pop-up how-to workbook, 
The Pocket Paper Engineer. The book will be printed in 
the spring of 2002 at the University of the Art's Borowsky 
Center in Philadelphia. 








Peepshows: A Visual 
History. 

By Richard Balzer. 

1 60 pages. 

(April 1998) 

$45.00. 

Harry N. Abrams. 

0-8109-6349-3 



Peepshow connotes cheap, coarse, illicit entertainment, 
but Balzer points out that a peep show is just "a closed, or 
semi-closed, box having at least one viewing hole." 
Originally a medium of itinerant exhibitors, the peepshow 
was popular at fairs and on city streets, where vendors would 
sing and "sound" musical instruments (as opposed to playing 
music on them) to attract and amuse a crowd waiting 
patiently for turns to pay for a glimpse through the viewing 
hole. A glimpse of what? Well, the menu of attractions was 
limited only by proprietor creativity. Risque attractions 
existed, but in their heyday peepshows featured panoramic 
displays and artistic and fantastic treatments for general 
audiences— family entertainment, that is. Many displays were 
simple dioramas with lighting effects provided by candles 
or light flaps. More elaborate peepshows incorporated 
hand-cranked or hook-and-string mechanisms that allowed 
display of multiple and moving images. Beautifully and 
copiously illustrated, well documented, Balzer's presentation 
of a nearly forgotten popular entertainment is excellent 
history, excellent amusement. 

Review from Booklist. 



Pop-ups from Finland 
in the 19th Century 

Theo Gielen, with thanks to Mr. 
Gote Klingberg. 

The year 2000 saw the publication of a voluminous, 
686-page bibliography of children's books published in 
Finland from 1799 to 1899: Lapsuuden kirjat Suomessa 
1799-1899. The author is Markus Brummer- 
Korvenkontic, a bibliophile himself, a retired professor in 
virology (!), and thus, an amateur in bibliography. But his 
book is not amateurish at all and was because of that was 
published by the University Library of Helsinki. Curiously 
enough the children's books published in the Finnish 
language are annotated in Finnish, the books originally 
published in Swedish are annotated in Swedish (both 
languages are spoken in Finland). 

With the much appreciated help of Mr. Gote 
Klingberg, the Swedish "eminence grise" of historical 
children's books we were able to get an impression of the 
presence of movable books in this Scandinavian country. 
They appear to have been very scarce in 19th century 
Finland, so scarce that Brummer even had to invent new 
words to name them. He calls them in Finnish 
liikekuakirja (literally, "movable pictures book") and in 
Swedish spelbok (something like "playbook"). 

Brummer didn't trace any movable books with Finnish 
text, and just a few with Swedish texts. Two of the titles 
included were published by the firm of Edlund in 
Helsingfors (Helsinki), probably after foreign originals 
however not traced by Brummer. The first one entitles 
Forvandlingsbilderbok ( Transformation Picturebook), was 
seen only in a defective copy and dated by Brummer 
between 1 880 and 1 884. It is thought to have had four text 
pages, four full-page illustrations and most probably two 
pull-tab pictures called by Brummer dragbilder. The 
contents are described as: Puss in boots, The Fairy with 
Golden Locks, Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood 
Rubezahl, Ostkojan (something like "the hut of cheese"?) 
and Lasthundaland (best translated as "the country of lazy 
dogs" ?). A second one is entitled Hvad skall du blifva? 
Levande bilder pa sex taflor (What Will You Become? 
Living Pictures on Six Plates), dated by Brummer "ca. 
1 880," but without any further annotation. 

Three additional movable books are listed with texts in 
Swedish but without a stated publisher. They most 
probably belong to the output of German mass market 
publishers, being part of their export to Sweden and 
Finland. Pa circus (In the Circus) appears to be the same 
book described and pictured in KJingberg's book Den 
Tidiga Barnboken i Sverige reviewed by us in an earlier 
issue of the Movable Stationery, a book with pictures with 



a superimposed flap that can be turned up or down to reveal 
another picture. Stortvdtt. En RoligBokfull Med Dragbilder 
for Sndlla Barn (Big Wash. A funny book with pull-tab 
pictures for good girls) has five text pages and five picture 
leaves. The front cover shows "No. 515" and a vignette of 
interlaced C and S, making it possible for us to identify the 
book as produced by the German firm of Carl Schaller of 
Furth near Nurnberg in Germany. An inscription in the copy 
viewed was dated 1 886. A fifth and last movable book found 
in the bibliography was Lilla Snohvit. En Sagobokfor Sndlla 
Barn (Little Snow White. A fairy-tale book for good 
children), again with the CS monogram of Carl Schaller. It 
has four pages with text set in an ornamental border and on 
the inner side of the back cover a large (26x20 cm.) picture 
covered by four fold-out flaps. 

As a further novelty we have found just one lonely 
panorama book (leporello), De TolfManaderna (The Twelve 
Months), having twelve small (1 1 cm.) leaves with scenes 
picturing the months. No publisher is listed on the book and 
the date of publication is only indicated by a former owner's 
inscription of 1888. Brummer's annotation suggests this 
publication as being "perhaps not Finnish." 

Apparently that is all that was published in Finland in 
the 19 Ih century and it will be a challenge to get copies of 
these books for your collection! 



Peter Rabbit Piracy 

From Beatrix Potter: Artist, Storyteller and 
Countrywoman by Judy Taylor, Frederick Wame, 1 996. 

Beatrix Potter's publishers were also at the time [1921] 
fighting off a flood of Peter Rabbit imitations and piracy. 
They took the Oxford University Press to task for publishing 
a pop-up version of Peter Rabbit without permission, though 
it was acknowledged that 'there is nothing particularly new 
in the idea of the Rabbit jumping up as the book opens, as 
this sort of thing was done thirty years ago by Deans and 
Tucks'. It was, however, a breach of copyright, and the book 
was withdrawn from sale and Id a [sic] copy damages were 
paid for those already sold. 



New Jersey Book Arts Symposium 

Book Art from Diverse Cultures 

Friday, November 2, 2001 

Rutgers University, Newark, New Jersey 



Rives, continued from page 2 

M: How did you get started with the company? 

R: This is the sort of question a lot of folks ask when they 
first meet a paper engineer. I like to answer it because so 
many people are baffled by the job itself and, of course, 
there is no training ground specifically for paper 
engineers. My background, as I said, was linguistics. I was 
at UCLA (University of California at Los Angeles) 
studying classical languages, Latin and Greek, and I 
discovered some pop-up books in the Special Collections 
department of the library there. Looking at the frontispiece 
of all of the books, I read, "Donated by Waldo Hunt," a 
name that didn't mean anything to me at the time. But I 
was captivated. I thought they were fantastic. I hadn't seen 
a pop-up book since I was a child, so it had been twenty 
years since I'd looked at one, and I knew immediately that 
this was my "thing." 

I started taking pop-up books apart, learning how to 
make pop-up cards. My cards got great feed-back from the 
friends and family I made them for, so then I started 
selling pop-up cards to card shops around town. This was 
in the mid-1990s, and hand-made cards were doing quite 
well in Los Angeles. I did that for quite a few months, and 
enjoyed enough success to quit my job as a waiter. Then I 
got a big order. I didn't want to hand-cut the cards, so I 
walked into Intervisual Books, which was only two miles 
from my house in Santa Monica. I'd found out about the 
company in the Los Angeles Times from an interview 
they'd done with Nick Bantock, in which he mentioned 
this pop-up emporium in Santa Monica. I got on my 
bicycle and rode up the hill to Intervisual Books. I walked 
in with some of my cards and said, "This is the sort of 
thing I do." I had a technical question about die-cutting, 
and Rodger Smith, Vice President of Paper Engineering, 
said, "If you have a portfolio to show us, we'll hire you. 
But, not so many cards; we'd like to see what you can do 
with books." I said, "I've got a portfolio and I will get it to 
you... in a little bit." That was a lie because I'd not done 
any books, but I spent the next month working on three or 
four books that I then used as part of my portfolio. I was 
hired, and that is how it all started. 

M: Were you put on fairly simple projects at first? 

R: Rodger Smith was a phenomenal mentor in that 
respect. My apprenticeship was gradual and just right for 
someone of my abilities. I'm still amazed at how I 
approached each week not knowing how I would do a 
project and by the end of the week I had either figured it 
out on my own, or by taking apart another book or, as last 
resort, walking into Rodger's office, almost in tears, 
asking for a little guidance. It took about a year and a half 
before I reached a level at which I felt I was equal with my 




peers at Intervisual. I don't know if you want to call that 
Master Craftsman level, but a level where Rodger could feel 
comfortable giving me a job he would feel just as 
comfortable giving to one of my colleagues. 

M: That must have been a very satisfying point to have 
attained. I've noticed Intervisual's name as producer on 
many of the pop-ups in my collection, but I don't always see 
the name of individual engineers on them. Are most of the 
books sort of a group effort? 

R: Most pop-up books are a 

group project, certainly the 

books done at Intervisual 

Books. I don't really believe 

in giving credit to one 

individual on a book. If you 

put my name on a book, you'll 

have to put at least 30 other 

names that have had an 

integral part in the process. So, until the cigar book [The 

Consummate Cigar Book], I didn 't allow my name to appear 

as a credit on the back of the book. I asked that Intervisual's 

name appear instead. So, although I have done dozens of 

books for the company for which I could have had credit, I 

asked that my name not appear. 

M: Modesty! 

R: It's really not modesty. It's just that I don't think the 
concept of credit is enriching to the reader. I know it is to 
the collector. I'm a collector myself and I definitely benefit 
from knowing who did what. But as a child I remember 
reading books and thinking that the credit was a bit silly. I 
know, besides collectors, the only people who care about 
seeing your name are your parents, your grandparents and 
your immediate circle of friends, and that is not enough to 
justify putting it on the back of something as special as a 
book. 

M: I respect your opinion, but as a collector, I'm glad I do 
know who has done the important part of the work on most 
of the pop-up books I've accumulated. 

R: I have to agree, and my views are almost hypocritical 
because I've benefited so much from comparing styles. It's 
just a quirk of mine. 

M: An admirable quirk, I must say. Now, regarding your 
new book, whose title, by the way, we've not even 
mentioned... 

R: The title of the book is If I Were a Polar Bear. 

M: I trust you will get full credit on that one because you 



have done virtually all the work. 

R: You're right, I have, and for that reason alone I would 
put my name on because it certainly is my book. It's nice 
for readers to know where the book came from so I do 
have credit - on the spine and also on the back, "Written, 
Illustrated and Paper-Engineered by Rives." 

M: Do I recall correctly that, at the onset, you intended 
this book to have no words? 

R: This book, the prototype, is almost unrecognizable 
from what it became. The style is the same, but that first 
book was. . . I call it a punk pop-up book. The final book 
breaks most of the conventional rules of pop-up and it 
even breaks a lot of the conventional rules of story, of 
narrative. I don't want to talk too much about it because 
it is such a different animal, but the first prototype had 
many weird things about it. One of those was that in the 
very early stage there were no words, so, I guess the 
answer to your question is, yes. 

M: But you did end up with those quatrains. 

R: Right. Not only did I want to write the story because I 
thought it was a nice little story, but I thought it really 
worked well with the book. And that turned out to be the 
case. 

M: When will the book be coming out? 

R: In the fall. It will be published by Piggy Toes Press, the 
fledgling publishing arm of Intervisual Books. 

M: Do we know how they came up with the name, "Piggy 
Toes"? It's delightful and I laughed out loud the first time 
I heard it. 

R: I've heard several stories about that, and since I think 
the tellers were pulling my leg, I'd probably better not 
repeat any of them. 

M: I'd like to talk about some of your interesting overseas 
experiences when you were studying languages. They are, 
after all, a form of background for what you are doing 
today. 

R: Yes, they are. I'm passionate about traveling, and I 
chose to make my educational field a career on the road. 
Most years I was in college I lived abroad, usually with a 
host family, learning another language and studying that 
culture. I did this in France, Mexico and Russia. In fact, 
the book, If I Were A Polar Bear, was written and 
engineered almost entirely in Venice, Italy. I lived there 
for almost four months during the first months of the new 



millennium, spending that time in the most beautiful city in 
the world... in a fourth-story apartment room, scoring, 
cutting and gluing; I hardly ever went outside. 

M: I hope you had a beautiful view through the window. 

R: I did. It was lovely. And, don't cry for me; I did get out. 
Enough. But the main reason for going to Italy was to do the 
book, and to get it ready in time for Bologna, 2000. 

M: Why Italy? Why so far away? 

R: Venice because my brother was living there and had a 
room for me in his apartment. So far away because I needed 
to get some distance away in order to fully concentrate on 
the book. 

M: To change the subject, I know you're also a teacher, 
conducting workshops in pop-up construction. You probably 
have some stories to tell from your experiences in that field. 

R: Definitely. I started doing workshops for children in a 
"career-day" setting. In other words, "I'm a paper engineer; 
this is what I do." I really got a kick out of that, and I 
noticed that at the end of these workshops, if they were in 
public places such as bookstores or libraries, there would 
always be a number of adults waiting around to talk to me, 
sometimes adults who didn't have kids along as a prop. 
What they wanted was to learn how to make pop-ups, so I 
also started conducting pop-up classes at the community 
college and at local studios. I've had a fantastic time doing 
that, and I'm always impressed by the diversity of my 
students. I'm impressed also by the way they quickly modify 
pop-up to their own craft interest. In other words, the 
woman who likes to do collage usually ends up doing a 
collage pop-up. The man who likes to do computer art will 
adapt what he learns to his computer art. It's exciting to me 
to watch my medium take hold in someone else. When you 
watch a person "get it" and you know they couldn't have 
"gotten it" anywhere else (because this is not frequently 
taught and there aren't many books on the subject) and you 
know they're going to go home and, at the very least, make 
super-cool cards for their friends and relatives, then 
it's... it's nice. 

M: Satisfying, I would think. You wear another hat too, 
because although you are now freelancing, you are still 
involved at Intervisual as a guide for group tours there. 

R: Intervisual, to me, is not a company, it is a family, and 
although I left to do my book, I'm back and working there 
much of the time as a docent for the Waldo Hunt Children's 
Museum. During the past year we've had a lot of exposure 
on television and in newspapers, and we are open to the 
public, so we do a lot of school groups, but we also do other 



10 



groups. And here is another place where I'm very 
impressed by the many different people who like pop-ups. 
I think I'm very lucky in that I can take a group of 
kindergarteners through the museum and I can just blow 
their minds; they love what they see. One hour later I can 
take a group of senior citizens through the museum, and 
the same thing happens. Maybe they like different things, 
but they all love what they see. Where else can you work 
and bring so much pleasure to such a diversity of people? 
It is very interesting and satisfying to me. Not only that, 
there is kind of a "cool" factor: when I meet people at 
parties and I tell them what I do they're always very 
interested. 

M: So, they corner you and say, "Tell me more about this. 
I've never heard of paper engineering." 



R: Correct. He has donated many of the books to UCLA, 
some very nice books that I almost wish we still had so I 
could show them to people. I have donor's remorse by proxy 
in this instance. As it is, his collection, in my opinion, is one 
of the best collections of pop-ups in the world, going back to 
1476. 

M: His collection does include that very early movable 
book? 

R: Yes. It was an astronomical treatise. It is in Latin (one of 
the few times my Latin has come in handy) and it was used 
for determining the position of the moon: paper volvelles on 
a sheet, which rotate against each other and against the base 
page and tell you what the position of the moon will be 
through its lunar cycle. 



R: Absolutely. Or, "So you're the guy who does that!" 

M: You mentioned that the museum at Intervisual is 
called the "Waldo Hunt Children's Museum." Can you tell 
me a bit about the man himself? 

R: Certainly. Plain and simple, I think he is the person 
who has done more for pop-up than anyone else in the 
history of pop-up books. He is a very interesting man who 
knows the pop-up business in and out. He's also the father 
figure, the paterfamilias for the pop-up world And, it's 
nice for me to be able to just wander into his office to bend 
his ear once in awhile. Most of the time he's playing with 
pop-up books, so his museum was started as a way of 
showcasing movable books and their centuries-old history. 
As the years have gone on, the display has developed into 
an actual museum. Now there are bigger plans for it, 
perhaps changing venues or maybe taking our show on the 
road, with visiting exhibits to share the world of pop-ups 
with more folks. 

M: Do we know how Waldo Hunt became interested in 
pop-up books? 

R: We do. I think he's explained it on occasion. He was 
working in advertising and - along with Hallmark - began 
the Second Golden Age of movable books by doing a few 
pop-up books back in the '60s when really no one else in 
the U.S. was publishing them. In order to do so he had to 
find a means of production and people who could design 
these books. In fact I have heard that Waldo himself is 
responsible for the title, "paper engineer." 

M: So he amassed his collection through all the years of 
his fascination with movable books and, as you have 
mentioned, he has ancient books that date back hundreds 
of years. 



M: Imagine the mind that first conceived such a design, but 
we don't know who that was, do we? 

R: No, we don't, but I like to speculate that it was a clever 
monk living in the north of Italy. Of course, MBS members 
know how long pop-ups have been around, but for visitors to 
the museum, one of the most interesting discoveries they 
make is to learn that the history of pop-ups goes so far back. 
Another intriguing note: I show perhaps a hundred different 
books to the groups I'm taking through the museum. We 
start in the antique section and then we move over to the 
creative department; I show them a lot of modern pop-up 
books and then I also show them how a pop-up book is 
conceived, designed, engineered and made ready to go to 
press. Probably the biggest hit of the entire tour, for young 
and old alike, is the book, The Genius of Lothar 
Megendorfer. I'm always struck with the fact that I'm 
showing five-year-old kids a book that, in essence, was 
designed in 1880, and I'm watching their thrilled reaction 
to the cat, for example, moving its tail out of the way of the 
man ironing, or the way the eyebrows of the dancing master 
jiggle as he plays his violin. It's just fascinating. 

M: Let's move from the very old to the very new, so new it 
hasn't yet been published - your book, If I Were a Polar 
Bear. We talked about it briefly, but is there anything else 
you'd like to mention about this very special book? 

R: I won't talk about the story because I want the readers to 
find within it whatever they want to. I will tell you that I 
wanted to make a book that I myself would buy, that I would 
collect - one that I thought was worth plunking down the 
amount of money marked on the back. As many of us know, 
that is not always the case today. Before, you used to buy 
anything that came out just because it was so charming; now 
there are enough books that you have to pick and choose. I 
wanted to make a book that I would pick, and choose to take 
home with me. 



11 



Another thing about the book - it's interesting to me 
as a paper engineer to show how the book developed. 
When I go through the book and show it to people it is 
important to me to indicate what I invented myself what, 
let's say, I "borrowed" from another book and what I took 
wholesale from another book. An excellent example is the 
igloo on spread four. This igloo, as pop-up aficionados 
will recognize, was the stately pleasure dome in Nick 
Bantock's Kubla Kahn, and before that it was the globe in 
the Columbus book. To me it looked a little un-dome-like 
because it had so many facets, but it looked like a dead-on 
igloo. It's safe to say that the whole book was built on the 
idea of my wanting to make a pop-up igloo. 

M: That's as good a reason as any. 

R: Maybe even better. It's true though, the igloo is really 
nice engineering and I wish I'd invented it myself, but of 
course I borrowed it. No shame in that in my business. 
Paper engineers constantly borrow from each other, and I 
love to point that out to students. This one I just took 
wholesale; I literally used the tissues from the Nick 
Bantock book to make my first prototype igloo. 

Oh, here's a point I'd like to make about paper 
engineering. What intrigues me about my job is the fact 
that paper is flat. It is a medium I've always loved, but it 
is flat. It doesn't come to you in an ingot or a wire; it 
comes to you... flat. Very two-dimensional. My job is to 
add a dimension; my job is to make this flat stuff pop up. 
And that's where I think some of the magic is, literally 
adding a dimension to a medium so that it comes to life. 
This is related to the igloo in the sense that the most three- 
dimensional thing you can make is a dome or a globe, so 
the igloo is real tour deforce engineering, and the entire 
book, as I said, is built around making a pop-up igloo. 
Once I had my igloo, I wanted to build a story around it. 
That's how we got to the north pole, and that's how we 
got a polar bear. 

M: That was quite a trip. And, thank you, Rives, for the 
trip we've had with this informative, intriguing 
conversation. 

Note: The Bantock article from the Los Angeles Times 
was reprinted in Movable Stationery in December, 1995. 




Spooky Scrapbook, continued from page 6 

The paper I used for the background comes out of a real 
antique book, published in 1 807. The whole book was made 
on the computer. I used drawings, real objects put on the 
scanner, old gravures, and digital photos. There are even 
dead insects! 

First I started 
with a pencil 
drawing. Next I 
made line 
drawings, based 
on the pencils. 
Every major 
element of these 
drawings is 
drawn separately and scanned in. Then I put all drawings on 
separate layers and shuffle them around on my computer 
screen. I can keep changing the composition of the drawing. 
I can enlarge things or move them around whenever I want 
to. 

Next I started coloring the line drawings. The first 
attempts were awful. They missed every bit of atmosphere. 
I also decided I did not like the way Annabel looked, she was 
just too cartoony. So I went to the bookstore and bought 
some books on 1 9 th century fashion. I wanted her to be much 
more sophisticated. I also didn't like the sky, which was too 
flat. I added some lighter and darker clouds to it, but I still 
wasn't satisfied. So I got in the car and took some digital 
pictures ofbeautiful Dutch skies. I mounted one of these into 
the drawing, changed the colors a bit and had exactly what 
I wanted. 

The next scene was made in the same way. I used a 
picture of a real fence and some old graves from a French 
graveyard. 

The scene with the presents was the most complicated to 
do. This is the scene that contains the paper sculptures. We 
have a dimensional rat here and a dimensional box with a 
pull-out drawer, containing three-dimensional bugs. It took 
me quite a while to get the picture right. First I made a 
pencil drawing, next a line drawing, and then I colored the 
line drawing. The atmosphere, however, still wasn't right. 

There wasn't enough drama in 
it, probably because the 
composition was too confusing. 
So I decided to leave out one of 
the guests. But I still wasn't 
satisfied. I needed something 
more sophisticated. So I went 
looking in old furniture 
catalogs and found some beautiful 18 th century chairs. I 




12 



scanned these in and added 
them to the drawing. I also 
added a background and 
everything looked much 
better. Inside the present I 
wanted to have something 
really nasty. I decided to put 
some beetles in it, assuming 
that nobody wants to have 
beetles for his birthday. A 
couple of months ago, 
however, I learned that this 
specific kind of beetle, a stagbeetle, is a very popular 
beetle in Japan. They are used for beetle contests. In beetle 
fights the strongest wins and in beauty contests the most 
shiny wins. It seems that an adult sample of these specific 
beetle is worth up to $20. I also heard that these beetles 
produce up to 200 eggs several times a year. So it's 
obvious that the owners of stagbeetles can make a lot of 
money. As a birthday present they seem to be very popular 
in Japan. But, at the bottom of the page we have the rat as 
realistic as possible. 




Because I had a book-in-a-book, I gained one extra scene 
thus instead of having six scenes I had seven. I wanted to 
end with something spectacular, but I had no idea what it 
had to be. When I was young one of my favorite occupations 
was cutting little men out of folded paper. I made endless 
rows of cut out men. Maybe this was the perfect occasion to 
relive my childhood. The members of Annabel's family are 
all based on existing people, mainly aunts and (ex) brothers- 
in-law. 





For the next 

scene I used my 

parents' 

good dinner 

set. My 

parents had 

two dinner 

sets: the 

normal and the 

good. The normal was for daily use and was a 

combination or what was left over from all kinds of dinner 

sets they had bought over a number of years. The good 

dinner set was a complete set they bought themselves on 

the occasion of their wedding in 1944. Only at very 

special occasions like Christmas and Easter did this set 

appear on the table. I don't think they would be pleased 

seeing what I've put in their bowls: soup with eyes, worm 

spaghetti, mashed potatoes, eel sauce with mushrooms, 

and caterpillar slime. 

The next scene shows the living room. Everybody is 
playing music and dancing. The meal didn't do them any 
good. They all have a rash. But who cares! They are 
already dead. Note an interesting detail, Annabel is sitting 
on her own scrapbook. The aunt's dress is from the 
aforementioned 19 th century fashion book. 

The last scene of the book shows Annabel making 
pictures of her relatives. I wanted to show at least once a 
photo camera as an explanation of where all the pictures 
in the book came from. 



Cover 

The cover was changed a number of times. I wanted to 
name the book "Annabel's Secret Scrapbook." And it had to 
look as if she took one of those antique books out of the 
library. I wanted it to be the most beautiful with an eye on it 
and the title "The Immortal Soul" scratched away in order 
to use it for her scrapbook. The publisher, however, didn't 
like the cover. First of all they didn't want the hero of this 
book to be a girl. It would offend the boys. Boys don't buy 
books about a girl. This meant I had to change all of the 
pictures in the book. By doing this I couldn't use the name 
Annabel anymore so the title had to be changed too. The 
publisher came up with a new title The Spooky Secret 
Scrapbook. They also wanted to get rid of "The Immortal 
Soul" which they thought was too confusing. I was quite 
hooked on the eye on the cover since I feel an eye gets the 
attention of the buyer, as if the book is looking at you. But I 
played around with different options and eventually decided 
to go for the owl which has two bright eyes and belongs to 
the mysterious and dark world. 




13 



The Manufacturing 

I used 32 CD disks for sketches and pre-press designs. 
But when everything was completed to everyone's 
satisfactions, I sent only four disks to the printer in 
Colombia (2.5 GB in total). This book was printed in 
Colombia and assembled in Equador. The assembly is 
done in a big hall with long wooden tables and lots of 
light. The workers, mostly women, get the die-cut shapes 
in large piles and glue the pieces together. They use small 
bottles that they can hold between their fingers and not 
have to put down while applying glue. The bottles are the 
type filled with mustard and ketchup bottles but they do 
not contain either mustard or ketchup but two types of 
glue. Old fashioned iron-like weights are used to put 
everything under pressure until the glue has dried. Every 
spread is checked to make sure it is working properly. To 
glue very long pieces, such as the sideboards which are 32 
inches long, a silkscreen is used to apply the glue. After 
everything has been checked, the books are shrink 
wrapped and shipped and the book is ready for the 
bookstore. 



flawlessly flowing into a conversation about Intervisual's 
Wizard of Oz pop-up book. At last, we are talking about 
pop-ups and movables! 

The next six hours will be pure "paper engineering" 
paradise. The only break we will take is when we greet 
Paula, Andy's very supportive and hospitable wife, who will 
arrive from work at about 6 in the evening. (Paula would 
later serve us a delicious homemade concoction of linguini, 
sun-dried tomatoes, zucchini, herbs and olive oil. Squisito!) 

Aside from his first attempt at mechanicals (an 
unpublished pull-tab for Warner Bros.), I get to examine up 
close the "Rube Goldberg" and "Cat in the Hat" movables he 
showed the NY MBS conference attendees last year. (Good 
news. Rube rooters! On Andy's must-do list is the building 
of a color Rube Goldberg mechanic, a sales sample for 
Melcher Media.) He pulls out from his cabinets mock-ups 
for his published books — Circus! and The Hobbit. One can't 
help marvel at the ingenuity behind a paper mechanism 
when seen in its almost all-white form. 



Baron, continued from page 3 

Welcome To Paper Engineering Paradise 

One would find the usual artist's desk, light table, 
computer, printers and copiers in a paper engineer's 
working space, right? But certainly not more phonographs 
and gramophones, and a player piano! ("The music-loving 
Meggendorfer would have enjoyed this place," I tell 
myself.) 

Aside from a Thomas Alva Edison poster, a picture of 
William Penn Adair Rogers hangs above his desk. 
Shouldn't the heir to the "pull-tab crown" have the 
portraits of Messrs. Lothar Meggendorfer and Julian Wehr 
on his wall instead of Will Rogers? "A fellow I have a lot 
of respect and admiration for," Andy later explains, 
referring to the American political satirist who became 
famous in the Ziegfeld Follies of 1916. "I think of him 
more as a philosopher and sage who could see clearly 
along the time line in both directions. I've added him to 
my unofficial collection ofteachers. Formal education was 
always a poor fit for me ~ so 1 take my learning where I 
find it and Will Rogers has some interesting things to 
say." 

The Baron, too, has some interesting things to play. 
Andy plugs in a theremin (an electronic musical 
instrument that is played without touching it!) which he 
built from scratch. With his right hand coaxing notes from 
a brass rod and his left hand controlling dynamics and 
articulation by hovering over a copper plate, he gives us 
an ethereal rendition of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow," 



I'm glad to learn that his analog-and-digital time 
teaching device has been published across the Atlantic in 
five European languages (Spanish, French, Dutch, 
Portuguese and Italian). While showing me the color proofs 
for the English edition, Andy says that this "improved" 
version, to be published by Troll, will soon hit American 
shores. 

But it's the future publications that will surely cause 
some heavy breathing among collectors. Among these are 
mock-ups for a pop-up book on menopause (no kidding!) to 
be called Men-O-Pop; and a movable book on CPR for 
humans and dogs alike (no kidding again!), written by Ellen 
Rubin. 

Of course, the Baron of Santa Fe reserves the most 
complicated for last. I was sworn to secrecy by Andy, so the 
most I can say is that he's currently collaborating on a 
movable volume with a Caldecott winner. Using this "very 
confidential" book as an example, he wants to show me how 
a mock-up is made, step by step. He sets his copiers 
humming and brings out his tools: cutting knife and glue. 
My nephew, Raymond, apparently enjoying his first "paper 
engineering" adventure, assists Andy by tracing illustrations 
on the light box. 

"This will take about 45 minutes," Andy says. While 
hand-cutting and assembling the intricate mock-up for the 
last page, the Baron talks about his memorable times at 
White Heat and Arroyo Projects Studio; and his decision to 
finally go solo. Imagine a brain surgeon narrating his life 
while performing a delicate operation. 



14 



An hour passes quickly and Andy beckons me to his 
drafting table as he carefully "weaves" ten separate strips 
into an internal rocker mechanism. He flips the page over 
and - drum roll, please ~ one tab causes ten different 
pieces to move! Truly a tour de force. It's like having a 
ringside seat, and a backstage pass at the same time, to a 
symphonic Beethoven climax — or to an all-cast Broadway 
musical finale. 

A fantastic and fitting ending to an exciting evening. 
Needless to say, I was bringing home a bag of Andrew 
Baron goodies, the contents of which will remain 
classified, for fear some MBS members will turn green 
with envy. 

Moving On 

It's now past midnight and time to go. For an encore, 
Andy offers to drive Raymond and me back ~ in his 1 939 
black Buick! — to our temporary lodgings for the night. 
(Look, Ma, no seatbelts! It was my first un-buckled 
automobile ride in the US in a long, long while.) He takes 
the circuitous way home, passes by the former offices of 
the once-hot White Heat along Cerrillos Road, and, whilst 
we're inside his car, gives us a detailed "virtual" tour of 
the premises. 

We reach our destination and the "goodbyes" are 
momentary, after all we promise to see each other in 
Milwaukee next year — and there was e-mail to help us 
keep in touch. True enough, nine days later I receive a 
message from Andy about his plans to rent office space 
near the Santa Fe Plaza. "It's a beautiful space in a larger 
office building, with lots of built-in bookcases under a 
very high ceiling and a 30-foot span of windows that face 
North. In addition to the light table, drafting table, 
computer table and copiers crammed into my home studio, 
there are two large 54-inch long flat file cabinets stacked 
up in my repair shop that I can move into the new space. 
I suspect it will make me more productive, as I won't have 
so many tempting distractions at arm's length! It will also 
be nice to make more room in the repair shop and turn the 
home studio back into a music room." 

Epilogue 

Before leaving Santa Fe the following day, our family 
drops by the Museum of International Folk Art to see, 
among other things, the impressive paper toy theatre 
collection of Alexander ("Sandro") Girard. I purchase 
from the gift shop three pop-ups (two "Folk Art Altar" 
notecards and one "Hacienda" advent calendar) designed 
exclusively for the Museum of New Mexico. Very simple 
pop-ups really that I can't help wonder if the museum has 
heard of Andrew Baron. (Contacting him should be easy. 



I found his number in the local phonebook.) Perhaps the 
Baron of Santa Fe could create some REAL movable paper 
stuff for them. 

The New Mexico museum people, however, may not be 
getting a guided tour through the "Museum of his 
Mechanical Mind." Andy recently wrote: "I want to report 
that at the end of my first full week at the new studio space, 
I feel that it was definitely the right thing to do. It's a great 
space for paper engineering, and the reclamation of the 
repair shop and music room are going well." The Baron of 
Santa Fe has moved into his new downtown studio — minus 
the wonderfully "tempting distractions." 



Questions and Answers 



Q. I visited Maria Winkler's exhibition and wonder if 
it was intentional that Elvis kept singing throughout the 
show. If so, how long did the music keep playing? 

David Rothwell 

Seattle, WA 

A. Despite my best efforts to turn off Elvis's music by 
taping the button down, he kept singing away the entire 
time - 2 months! He drove the librarians crazy! And he is 
still singing. When I installed a second show, I had to 
remove the chip to shut him up. 

Marie Winkler 

Carmichael, CA 

Q. Are you a new collector who missed popular pop-up 
books produced in the 1980s and 1990s? If you would like 
to know more these titles, contact me and I can supply 
more information. 

Ann Montanaro 
East Brunswick, NJ 

Q. For an exhibition being planned for the fall of 2002, 
coinciding with the next conference, I am looking for 
examples of pop-ups used in advertising. The exhibition 
will be held at the Eisner Museum of Advertising and 
Design in Milwaukee. If you have unusual pop-up 
advertising, please contact me. I have compiled a list of the 
pieces being considered for the display as well as the 
advertising identified but not yet located. 
Ann Montanaro 
montanar@rc i . rutgers . edu 



15 



SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION LIBRARIES 




New Publications 

The following titles have been identified from pre- 
publication publicity, publisher's catalogs, or 
advertising. All titles include pop-ups unless otherwise 
identified. 

A is For Animals: An ABC Pop-up. By David Pelham. 
10 th Anniversary Edition. October. Little Simon. $17.95. 
0-68984-706-8. 

Amazing Pop-up Pull-out T-Rex Book. By David 
Hawcock. DK Publishing. October. 15 pages. $19.95. 
0-78944-3. 

The Big White Book with (almost) Nothing in it. Ragged 

Bears. 10 pages. 10 x 1 1. $13.95. 

1-92992-724-x. 

Disney 's Pop-up 
Adventures. September. 
Disney Press. $12.99. 18 
pages. 0-78683-332-7. 

Flapdoodle Dinosaurs: A 
Pop-up Book of Nonsense. 
By David A. Carter. Little 
Simon. October. 1 1 x 9. 7 
Spreads. 0-689-84643-6. $15.95. 

Frank Lloyd Wright Pop-up. September. Thunder Bay. 
48 pages. $19.98. 1-5745-690-2. 

Harry Potter Hogwarts School: A Magical 3-D 
Carousel Pop-Up Book. September. Scholastic. $24.00. 
0-4392-8611-5. 




3 9088 01629 2963 

My Best Pet! (Pop-up Play;. Keaaer s Digest. 7 x 9. 10 

pages. $8.99. 157-584-744-2. 

Also: Sam 's Scary Night. 1 57-584-745-0. 

The Moon Book: A Lunar Pop-up Celebration. November. 
Universe Books. $22.50. 0-7893-0644-1. 

Noddy and the Lost Picnic Basket: A Pop-up & Play 
Book. Reader's Digest. October. $9.99. 
157-584-838-4 

The Pop-up Book of Nightmares. Matthew Reinhart, paper 
engineer. October. St. Martins. $29.95. 
0-31228-263-x. 

Richard Scarry 's Mr. Fixit 's Mixed-up Christmas! Little 
Simon. October. 8 x 10. 12 pages. $14.95. 
0-689-84487-5. 

Young Naturalist 's Handbook. Beetles. By Robert Sabuda 
and Matthew Reinhart. September. Hyperion Press. 14 
pages. $19.99. 078-680-557-9. 
Also: Butterflies. 078-680-558-7. 



Witch Zelda 's Birthday Cake: A 
Wild and Wicked Pop-up, Pull- 
the-tab Book. By Eva Tatcheva. 
October. Harry N. Abrams. 
$17.95.081-0945-673. 

Who Will You Meet in Scary 
Street? Nine Pop-up Nightmares. 
By Christine Tagg. September. 
Little Brown. 22 pages. $14.95. 
031-625-6064. 




Harry Potter and the Sorcerer 's Stone: A Deluxe Pop- 
up Book. September. Scholastic. 0-4392-9482-7 

Knitted by Grandma. By 
Ruth Hearson. September. 
Dial Books for Young 
Readers. 16 pages. $12.99. 
0-80372-689-9. 
Note: Available in the 
U.K.as The Non-stop 
Knotty Knitter. 

Little Red Riding Hood A 
Classic Collectible Pop-up. 

Written and illustrated by Marjorie Priceman, Bruce 

Foster, paper engineer. Little Simon. 9\1.1 spreads. 

$19.95.0-689-83116-1. 

Also: Limited edition. $150.00. 0-689-84722-x. 




Catalogs Received 

Ampersand Books. Summer Catalogue 2001. Ludford 
Mill. Ludlow, Shropshire Sy8 1PP UK. 
Phone: 01584 877813. Fax: 01584 877519. 
Email: ampersand.books@mcmail.com. 
http://www.ampersand.books.mcmail.com 

Thomas and Mary Jo Barron. Catalogue 10. 120 
Lismore Ave., Glenside, PA 19038. 
Phone: 215-572-6293. 

Stella and Rose's Books. Pop-up List. 
www. stellabooks. com 

Ten Eyck Books. Catalogue 14. P.O. Box 84. 

Southboro, MA 01772. Phone: 508-481-3571. 

Fax: 508-490-9954. Email: teneyck@ma.ultranet.com. 



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